apart and away. Tangible: to reach out and touch, to
feel, just don't.

Young Love at Dawn

I remember you in flashes.

Blurred and frozen moments -

a picture taken off guard

by unsteady hands.

I remember us both,

living someplace where it's always morning:

forever trapped in the cool, misty moments

just before the hateful dawn.

Lying side by side,

bony knees cutting hot fleshy thighs,

warm beneath our blankets of regret

twitching and falling into shaky sleep;

we fake our dreams when dreams won't come

A fistful of nightgown;

a face full of hair.

Waiting and watching

for harsh, reluctant daylight.

Through an open window,

lies are carried away

on whispers and sighs,

only to find their way back,

at home on our lips,

just as the sun begins to rise.

Advice for Young
Girls: How to Be Crazy in 13 Steps

Step 1.

Dress in a way that doesn't suit your body. If you have
wide hips, wear striped pants. Turn your lower half into warm, fleshy
parentheses that go on and on, outward and onward, forever and ever. If you're
overweight, wear crop tops that let your belly hang out, soft and free as fuck.
Slouch for maximum effect. Bras are always optional, but never preferred.

Step 2.

Stop brushing your hair. Let it swirl around your face in
a wild celebration of madness.

Step 3.

Wear your makeup all crazy. Lipstick should always
overflow the parameters of your mouth; it should kiss the teeth and shine
bright like blood. Execute cat-eye eyeliner after you've had a few drinks (or,
better yet, the shaky, queasy morning after you've had a ton of drinks). Pluck
out all your eyebrows and paint caterpillars over your eyes. Have them meet at
the bridge of your nose in a furry caterpillar kiss.

Step 4.

Talk to strangers. Tell them outlandish lies. You could
be a widow, a ballerina, a recovering alcoholic, a crackhead, an award-winning
photojournalist fresh off a plane from the front lines in Afghanistan. Be
whatever you want. The time is now.

Step 5.

Take trains as often as possible. Drink those tiny
bottles of whisky that cost $8 each. Seek out men with strong hands and full
mouths. Kiss and fondle these men just seconds before your boyfriend meets you
on the platform. Go meet your boyfriend's parents with the taste of a stranger
on your lips.

Step 6.

Learn to express your anger. Be comfortable with your
anger. Revel in your goddamned anger. Scream until your voice cracks and
crumbles into a million pieces. Throw things that will break with a satisfying
shatter: wine glasses, your mother's wedding china, the porcelain dolls you
both loved and feared as a little girl. Hit yourself. Pull out your hair in
snarled, greasy clumps. Bite your arms, hard, so that the teeth slice right
through the smooth, unsuspecting flesh. Be proud of those teeth marks - you've
earned them.

Step 7.

Discourage visitors by letting your yard grow into a
jungle. Let the dog shit all over the walk. Litter the porch with empty liquor
bottles and used tampons.

Step 8.

Keep the inside of your house meticulously clean. Eat
over the sink so as not to drop crumbs. Clean your floors on bruised hands and
knees. Inhale the giddy fumes of cleaning solutions until your head detaches
from your shoulders and floats away like a runaway balloon.

Step 9.

Mock tradition. Take your grandparents' wedding portrait
and scrawl "BULLSHIT" over the impossibly young and smiling faces.
Use a bright red marker. Hang new and improved portrait over the fireplace,
front and center, where it can be admired by all.

Step 10.

Trust no one. Accuse the mailman of stealing your
cigarette coupons, your catalogs, your personal correspondence. When you go to
the pharmacy to collect your Seroquel and your Lithium and your Xanax and
Zoloft, make the pharmacist open each bottle and count every pill. Demand a
second, or even third, recount on the Xanax.

Step 11.

Never follow doctor's orders. Toss out your
antidepressants and antipsychotics, and dive straight into the Xanax. Mix them
with cheap alcohol and the chunky white painkillers you may or may not have
acquired illegally. Spend your evenings listening to the Velvet Underground in
hot baths, chain-smoking cigarettes and tipping your ashes right into your
bathwater. Stoned out of your mind, call your exes and hang up. Call your exes
and scream and slur until you're blue in your fucking face. Cry, but only if
you feel like it.

Step 12.

Fuck a lot. Fuck men and women you barely know. Fuck men
and women you don't know at all! Fuck mean, nasty men who like leaving marks;
fuck men who like seeing where they've been. Fuck women who are just as fucking
crazy as you. Fuck in your bed and never wash the sheets. Fuck in parked cars
and mark the steamy windows with your hands, your forehead, your ass, your
tongue. Fuck until your insides are raw and screaming for mercy. Fuck some
more. Fuck and hate it. Fuck and love it.

Step 13.

Do whatever the fuck you want. Stuff your face with brie
and chicken nuggets. Chew with your mouth wide open and your eyes closed tight.
Drink red wine straight from the mouths of strangers. Sleep in six-inch
stiletto heels. Go grocery shopping in your nightgown. Talk to yourself all day
and all night. Live free and wild as an animal. Stand naked in front of mirrors
and laugh and laugh. Make lists with 13 entries. Only 13. Always 13.

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